


Half-Brothers

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, F/M, I don't even know anymore, kind of crack but not really, yet another successful title by me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all know Thrain disappeared, well let's say he was found by a recently widowed Belladona Baggins nee Took in the woods near the shire, Bella offers Thrain a place to rest, and he stays for a few months during which they are intimate, Thrain leaves for Erebor but gives something to Bella i.e. a necklace or ring, something with the durin symbol, which is later given to Bilbo by he's mother, this could be when he reaches (hobbit) maturity or when she is dying</p>
<p>Two Paths</p>
<p>1 This can be a one-shot that stops when meeting the dwarves or</p>
<p>2 Can be a multi-chapter story that goes through the Hobbit story line</p>
<p>Optional:</p>
<p>1. Whether Bilbo knows who his father is <br/>2. Timing of when Bilbo's heritage found out optional<br/>3. Pairings if any</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half-Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> What am I doing with my life

Bilbo had never known his father. The only things he knew about him were from the stories Belladonna had told him. He knew his father was a king, but he had lost his kingdom. He knew his father wasn’t a hobbit, and that was one of the reasons for the looks he got from other hobbits. The only thing he had of his father’s was a key—one that would come in handy later. His mother had given it to him on her deathbed, telling him that it was the key to his father’s kingdom. He didn’t believe that it actually was, but kept it all the same, for sentimental value if nothing else.

He had been looking at his key, as he did at least once a day, when the knock on the door came.

“Hello,” he said, opening the door. “Do I know you?”

The tall figure said, “I should hope so, Master Baggins,”

“Gandalf! I remember you! You used to make the most wonderful fireworks!”

Gandalf scoffed. “At least you remember me, even if it is only for my fireworks. I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

“An adventure? No, thank you. Adventures are nasty things, making you late for supper and such.”

“Hmmm. I think you will change your mind.”

“No, thank you. I don’t want any part in your adventure.”

“Fine, then. Expect me for tea tomorrow.”

“Oh—ok, I’ll just…” Bilbo said, but the wizard was already out of earshot. “Wizards…”

**

The next day, Bilbo heard a knock on his door at teatime, and opened it, expecting Gandalf.

Who he found was most definitely _not_ Gandalf.

He opened the door to a gruff, tall (by their standards) dwarf, who introduced himself by saying, “Dwalin, at your service.”

Bilbo stared at him in shock for a moment before saying, “Bilbo Baggins, at yours. Do come in?”

Dwalin pushed past him, going straight for the food.

Bilbo sighed and tried to stay out of the way as the dwarf scarfed down his dinner. “Do I, by chance, know you?”

“No,” said Dwalin, barely pausing eating. “Gandalf sent me, and I expect the others will be here soon.”

“ _Others?_ ”

He watched as eleven other dwarves arrived, quickly going through his pantry and destroying his dining room with a food fight. Gandalf was no help either, encouraging the rowdiness of the dwarves and refusing to tell Bilbo what any of this was about—until one last knock came on the door.

“He is here,” said Gandalf.

_Yes, thank you, Gandalf. I can see and hear that for myself,_ Bilbo thought as he went to get the door. _Honestly, wizards. They always have to state the obvious, for no particular reason._

As he opened the door, he was shocked. The dwarf standing outside his door bore a shocking resemblance to the drawings Belladonna had shown him of his father.

“Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, at your service,” the dwarf said.

“I’m sorry? Did you just say son of _Thrain?_ ” Bilbo asked.

“Why?”

“Nevermind,”

Thorin pushed past him with an arch of an eyebrow to join the rest of his company, greeting two who appeared to be his nephews first.

“Enough with the pleasantries—we have important matters to discuss,” said Gandalf—interrupting as usual. The dwarves once more gathered around Bilbo’s poor dining table as Thorin pulled out a map and began going on about a dragon, a mountain, and a quest.

“There is no way in,” finished Thorin.

“There may be one way,” said Gandalf. “Come here, Bilbo.”

He stepped in from the doorway where he had been half-listening.

“I trust you still have your key?” asked Gandalf.

“Yes, but I don’t see what it has to do with any of this—“ Bilbo said.

“Fetch it,” said Gandalf.

“I wear it around my neck,” he said, pulling a thin cord out of his shirt and lifting it over his head. “I still don’t see what my key has to do with any of this.”

Gandalf took the cord and key and held it up for the dwarves to see. “There is another way into the mountain,” he said. “This key unlocks the side passage.”

“How did you get this, burglar?” Thorin asked angrily. “I recognize it—that was my father’s.”

“My father gave it to my mother, and she gave it to me,” said Bilbo.

“How did your father get it?”

“Well you see—my father was Thrain,” said Bilbo. “He came here and my mother took him in. Shortly after she gave birth to me, he died.”

“You must be mistaken.”

“He is not,” said Gandalf. “His father was indeed Thrain. I had almost forgotten—I suppose this complicates things quite a bit, does it not?”

“It means we have a new uncle!” said the darker-haired of the two that Bilbo recognized as Thorin’s nephews—which apparently were his nephews too.

“As kind as you seem, I would rather not be your uncle. I am quite content to stay here in the Shire, thank you.”

“I think you’ll change your mind,” said Gandalf. “Your parents were both adventurous—your mother especially. You take after her more than you know.”

“No, thank you. I’ll not just up and leave my home on a quest with a bunch of dwarves I’ve never met before.”

“Is he even a burglar, or was this all an elaborate scheme to get us to meet?” Thorin asked Gandalf. “He doesn’t look much like a burglar—more like a grocer, if you ask me.”

“If I say he is a burglar, then a burglar he is,” said Gandalf. “I have chosen him as the fourteenth member of your company. If you would like to turn him down and deal with the luck of thirteen, be my guest—but you will regret it.”

Thorin sighed. “Balin, you might as well give him the contract, then. It’s his own choice if he signs it or not.”

Bilbo took the contract from the elderly dwarf and quickly read over it. “Laceration… evisceration… _incineration?_ ” he asked. “I’d rather not.”

“Keep it. You might change your mind in the morning,” said Gandalf.

The rest of the night was a blur of the dwarves fighting more over food, empty pantries, haunting melodies, and a bothersome wizard. When he was finally allowed to go to sleep, he very nearly passed out on his bed.

By the time he woke up the next morning, he had already missed first breakfast, and his house felt strangely empty after the events of the previous night.

He walked into his living room to find a note, along with the contract sitting on the mantelpiece. The note read:

_We leave at 10:30 from the Green Dragon. I trust you will be there._

_-Gandalf_

Bilbo sighed and went back into his room, quickly dressing and throwing things into a bag before rushing out of the door, contract flapping in the wind behind him.

Aulë help him, he was going on an adventure.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)


End file.
